


Scratch and Burn

by JessicaMDawn



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Abuela is amazing, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Werewolves, Born Werewolf Christopher Diaz, Born Werewolf Eddie Diaz, Don't mess with Pepa, Evan "Buck" Buckley Needs A Hug, Families of Choice, Getting Together, M/M, Meeting the Parents, No Lawsuit, Overstimulation, Post-Tsunami (9-1-1), Scent Marking, Supernatural Elements, Tsunami (9-1-1 TV), Werewolf Evan Buckley, but not the sexy kind, not a lot of Firefam sorry, the firefam is here but not a focus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24691783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaMDawn/pseuds/JessicaMDawn
Summary: Christopher scratches Buck during the tsunami, but the rest of the debris hurts a lot more and Buck thinks nothing of it. The next day, however, Buck experiences a lot of changes that he doesn't know how to handle. Luckily, Eddie is there to help him through it.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Isabel Diaz, Evan "Buck" Buckley & Josephina Diaz, Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 105
Kudos: 742





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by DLanaDHZ
> 
> The story is complete. Updates every two days.

One minute, Buck was holding on to Christopher while he looked out at the water. The next, he was carrying Christopher over his shoulder, running as fast as he could, trying to escape the largest tsunami he had ever seen. It wasn't fast enough. Of course it wasn't. The water hit him like a train, flipped and tossed him, jerked him around, like a giant washing machine on the spin cycle.

He tried to hold on to Chris, to protect him, but the water ripped him away. By the time Buck could stay above the surface long enough to catch his breath and look around, he had no idea where he was. He had no idea where Christopher was.

"Christopher! Christopher!"

Christopher wasn't far away, thank _God_. A few dozen feet further in the rushing water, holding on to a pole. Buck let the water pull him in that direction, reached for the child, but he was swept too far.

"Hold on, Chris! I'll get you! I'll—"

"I can't!" Christopher cried before he slipped into the waves.

Gasping, Buck ducked under the water, reaching, grasping, pulling Christopher toward him. Christopher flailed, panicked, trying to swim with limbs that wouldn't listen. He smacked Buck in the face, and must have cut him because the salt water burned. But Buck had scrapes and cuts all over from the initial surge. One more cut wouldn't kill him. And it meant nothing if at least Christopher was safe.

As soon as Christopher was above the water again, he recognized that Buck had him and clung to him like a koala. He only let go when Buck hefted him up onto the ladder truck. Once Buck was up there with him, he clung to him again. That was fine. Buck was clinging to him too.

"It's okay, Chris. We're gonna be okay." Buck panted into Christopher's hair, his fingers gripping tight to Christopher's shirt. "I got you. I got you."

…

…

Until he didn't.

Until the receding wave dragged him away.

Until he couldn't find Christopher in the water.

Until no one had seen him.

Until Buck's world ended.

…

…

Buck was covered in cuts and scrapes. Blood dripped down his arm and the side of his face. He couldn't feel any of it. It didn't hurt.

The paramedics wanted him to lie down but they didn't understand. He couldn't just sit there. He had to keep looking. He had to find Christopher.

He had to find Chris.

"Buck?"

Shit. Eddie had spotted him at the VA triage hospital.

"What are you doing here?" His eyes widened once he really took in Buck's appearance, the cuts on his face. "Oh no. Where's Chris?"

He sounded like a parent who knew their kid was going to be sad, not one who had just _lost_ their kid. He didn't _understand_.

"Eddie." Buck's voice wavered, weak after all the yelling, the calling, the salt water, the sun. "Eddie, I—"

The truth was dawning on Eddie's face. Concern for Buck melting into horror as he realized what it must mean for Buck to be at the triage center. Alone.

"Why do you have his glasses?" he managed, voice strangled.

Buck stumbled through an explanation. They'd gone to the beach. The wave—it—Buck had him. Buck got him out of the water, but he—the last wave—it—and Christopher—

Eddie couldn't look at him. His eyes traveled over Buck's body, the glasses in his hands, the area around them, but he couldn't look Buck in the face. Buck knew, immediately, starkly, that Eddie would never speak to him again. And it hurt. The ladder truck had hurt. Realizing the department wouldn't let him be a firefighter again hurt. Buck had thought that was his lowest, that he had lost everything.

He was wrong. Losing Christopher. Losing Eddie. _That_ was losing everything.

And it was his own fault. If he'd been watching Christopher closer, if he'd been faster, if he'd been _better_ , Christopher would still be there. He wouldn't—

"Christopher?" The name ripped from Eddie like a dying breath. His eyes were over Buck's shoulder, and then he was moving passed him, ignoring him in favor of the miracle that had just walked up.

A lady had brought Christopher with her to the triage center. Christopher was there. Alive. Safe.

Part of Buck's brain recognized that he was surrounded, that someone was talking to him, but all he could see was Eddie hugging his son. All he could hear was Christopher's voice calling for his dad. All he knew was Eddie, clutching as Christopher while staring straight back at Buck with wide eyes.

…

…

That night, Buck's leg was _screaming_.

He tried every pain reliever in the apartment. He took so much that he probably should have been in the E.R. for an overdose. It didn't help. Nothing helped.

The stairs up to his loft were insurmountable. His leg wouldn't cooperate. It gave out as soon as he tried and he collapsed on the bottom step. The pain was so bad that tears poured from his eyes. He gripped the bottom rung of the railing beside the stairs so hard he felt it snap under his fingers, and then gripped it harder still.

At some point, he passed out.

…

…

For all the pain he'd been in the night before, Buck felt amazing the next day.

He had slept in the most uncomfortable position—sideways on the stairs, his bad leg straight out and his other to his chest, his torso twisted so he could grab at the railing—and yet he didn't have a single muscle ache anywhere. His leg felt fantastic, no hint of pain at all. Even post physical therapy his leg twinged a little, but not now.

When Buck had peed and was brushing his teeth, he had another surprise waiting in the mirror. The cuts on his face from the day before were gone. A quick look proved the one on his arm that had required him to get a blood transfusion was also gone.

"Huh," he mused around his toothbrush. "Guess it wasn't as bad as it looked." Blood thinners were whack.

Sadly, the rest of the day would not match his oddly good morning. He had still told Bobby he quit. He still had nothing to do all day. He still had nothing to look forward to in his life. Even though Christopher had survived, that didn't mean Eddie would ever forgive him for losing Christopher in the first place, for nearly getting his son killed.

Buck had barely made it downstairs when he heard a loud knocking on the door. Confused, he detoured to check the peep hole. No one. Scrunching up his face, Buck turned to walk away but heard the knocking again. This time, he opened the door completely, in case whomever it was just wasn't visible through the hole.

No one.

A glance both ways down the hall revealed a woman standing in front of the door at the end of the hall. While Buck watched, she lifted her hand to knock again. And the sound was so loud, sounded so close, that Buck jerked backward into his own apartment and slammed the door shut.

"What the hell?" he whispered.

Like his voice was a switch, suddenly _everything_ was loud. The distant noise of traffic through the closed windows sounded like he was standing in the middle of the street. Someone was talking on the phone with a debt collector. Kids were laughing, their feet pounding on the floor. A dog yapped incessantly. A bird was singing pop music and imitating the radio.

Buck threw his hands over his ears, but it hardly helped. The sounds were so overwhelming they brought him to his knees in the middle of the apartment.

God, the floor reeked of sweat. He did his workout there every morning and it was obvious. How had he never smelled it before? Gross! Mixed with the smell of his minty toothpaste and the sea breeze detergent on his clothes, Buck might just vomit. Oh god, that would smell even worse. No. No. Don't do it.

Forcing his eyes open—when had they closed?—Buck caught one sight of his apartment and was assaulted by vertigo. The world was warped. Too vibrant. Too bright. Like a 4k HD TV. Better. Buck crammed his eyes shut to make the world stop spinning.

What was happening? What was wrong with him? Why? Why? Shit shit, he should call—9-1-1. He should call for help. But it was so loud, and so bright, and so _much_. He couldn't move or else be further overwhelmed. One motion felt like it would kill him. Where was his phone? Where was—

…

…

At some point, Eddie found him curled up on the kitchen floor, head between his knees, hands over his ears, eyes slammed shut. Buck had heard him come in—of course he had, he heard _everything_ —but he honestly couldn't tell it was his own front door where the keys jangled, the knob turned, the door slid open and shut.

"Mierda."

Buck whimpered. Eddie was so _loud_ , even through Buck's hands. But it was also _Eddie_ , and Buck wanted to curl into him instead of the linoleum.

"Buck, listen to my voice. Buck."

Eddie had lowered his tone to something soft and gentle. He had never spoken like that to Buck before.

"Focus on me, Buck. Listen only to my voice. Block out everything else. Just me, Buck, okay?"

The more Eddie spoke, the easier it was to hear him. Buck's brain focused on the familiar cadence of his words and, slowly, slowly, the rest of the noise filtered out.

"I'm sorry I let you go home alone yesterday, Buck. That was stupid and reckless. I knew better. You hear me, Buck? I'm apologizing, Buck. Do you hear me?"

It felt like he would need the jaws of life to crack open his own jaw, but Buck managed, "I—I hear you."

"Good, Buck. Good. How's your hearing?"

Cautiously, Buck pulled one hand away from his ear. He swore he could hear the dust mites moving in his apartment, but more than that he could hear _th-thump, th-thump, th-thump, th-thump_. Eyes still closed, Buck reached out for the noise. His hand pressed into the fabric of Eddie's shirt, then further still, to the hard muscle beneath, and there it was.

_Th-thump, th-thump, th-thump_

A calming rhythm. Eddie's heartbeat.

"I can hear your heartbeat," Buck breathed out. "Eddie—"

"Smells?"

Eddie smelled like pine trees and that odd but satisfying clean scent that skin had only when someone had just stepped out of the shower. A gentle but purposeful flow of air hit Buck's nose, like Eddie had blown on his face, and Buck smelled eggs, ketchup, orange juice.

"Detergent?" Buck asked, because he didn't smell anything on Eddie like he did on his own clothes. No cloying chemical smell or overwhelming 'sea breeze.'

"Unscented." A small huff. "I'm sure you've noticed, Buck, but too much smell can be overwhelming."

Buck hummed, his other hand falling from his ear and instead reaching out to grip Eddie's arm, so he had both hands on his friend. His own heart rate slowed to match Eddie's, his breathing mimicking Eddie's too.

"Good job, Buck. You're doing great," Eddie encouraged, as if he could hear Buck's heart and breathing as easily as Buck was hearing his. Considering he was walking Buck through whatever this was, he probably could. "Now all you have to do is open your eyes."

Buck shook his head. "I get dizzy."

Eddie lifted a hand to touch Buck's over his heart. "You've done the hard part already. The hearing. The smells. If you can focus those two, I know you can focus your eyes. Buck. You can do this. Open," he said, almost like a parent trying to get their kid to eat something.

First they were slits. Buck could see the light of the room, Eddie's shoes. Leather soles, the individual fibers covering his toes. As his eyes opened further, he lifted his gaze. Eddie's jeans, wearing a little thin at the knees, the lines of fabric crisscrossing each other. His shirt, light blue, the fibers a bit fuzzy, probably comfortable, collared. The warm tones of Eddie's skin, like the sun had personally reached down to kiss him. The stubble on his jaw, not just dark brown but half a dozen shades. His lips, pink, smooth, unbroken from biting or weather or wounds. His eyes. His eyes. Sparkling, endless, dark brown and yet somehow golden, amber, bronze.

"Eddie," Buck gasped out.

Eddie's lips curved up. "See? Fine, right? I knew you could do it."

Buck glanced around the room, hesitant, cautious. His eyes couldn't figure out what to concentrate on. It was like when he tried on his classmate's glasses back in school, and he eyes unfocused because the prescription was all wrong. But, with the steady _th-thump, th-thump, th-thump_ of Eddie's heart both in his ears and under his palm, Buck acclimated. His eyes adjusted.

The apartment had been simply a room before, now it was an entire other world. He could see the grain of the wood floor, the linoleum. He could see the stain on the couch where he'd dropped a smoothie right after moving in, which he'd thought he'd completely cleared up. The paint was more vibrant, with new hues he hadn't seen. It really was like he had been living his life in low definition and suddenly he was seeing in ultra HD.

"Eddie, Eddie," Buck said, his voice faltering, his hands clutching at Eddie's shirt and arm. "What's happening to me? What is this?"

When he dragged his eyes back to Eddie, he found his best friend frowning and it made his own heart rate pick up.

"Ed—"

"Christopher scratched you," Eddie told him quietly, voice pitched low and solemn like he was telling Christopher his hamster had died.

Buck's eyebrows drew together. "I mean, yeah. During the first wave. What does that—" His voice cut out abruptly.

He might not be up to date on a lot of pop culture, but he knew what movies had changes happening after a scratch. Or a bite. Again his heart rate jumped up. Eddie's grip on his hand tightened, but it was comforting, not painful. It didn't help. Buck couldn't breathe, couldn't force his body to take a full breath, he couldn't—

"You're not serious," Buck managed to squeeze out. "No way."

Except Eddie's heart rate had also quickened, and there was a scent coming off him. Though Buck had never smelled anything like it, his brain supplied the answer: anxiety. Eddie was nervous.

When he spoke, Eddie's voice broke. "Buck, I'm so sorry. I never intended for this to happen. Chris—He didn't mean to. He was just—scared. He's just a kid, and he was scared, and he lost control."

A scratch. That probably mean werewolf, not vampire, but who knew what else was out there. Buck was jobless, listless, and now he wasn't even human. This was bigger than a ladder truck, bigger than a tsunami. Buck wasn't sure he could handle this.

A quick, deep breath, and Eddie's voice sounded wet. His eyes definitely were, and the smell coming off him— "There's…there's no cure, but Buck, I'll help you through it, okay? All the way. I've got your back."

I've got your back.

 _He's got my back._ The thought hit Buck like a bullet and suddenly he could breathe. Buck heaved in deep, loud breaths, again, again. Eddie's eyebrows furrowed a moment before he pulled Buck in for a tight hug. His heartbeat thumped close to Buck's ears, louder than ever. His warmth and his smell were comforting. His arms held Buck together even while it felt like he was falling apart.

Once his breathing had calmed down, Buck could think clearer, or at least about something other than his immediate situation. "Christopher? How—Where's Chris?"

Eddie's voice rumbled through him. "I left him with Abuela. I didn't know what state you'd be in when I found you, and I could hardly let Christopher see his hero losing control, you know?"

With a frown, Buck asked, "Hero?" He tilted his head up but only managed to see part of Eddie's chin. "Eddie, I lost him."

"That's not how he remembers it," Eddie said, and there was a hint of a smile in his voice. "He said you saved him, and a bunch of other people too. He thinks you're a superhero now."

A startled laugh escaped Buck. He held up a hand in front of his face. It looked normal, like nothing had changed in the past few hours. "I guess I got the powers to go with that now, at least?"

Eddie shook his head. "You don't need any powers to be a hero, Buck. You just need to be you."

How much of Buck was still Buck though? He didn't even know what exactly he was, or how much of pop culture was true vs how much was total crap. Eddie got through life just fine with this, whatever it was, but could Buck do it?

"Do you want to go see Chris?"

Buck nodded against Eddie's chest.

"Come on then. We'll take it slow."

Eddie stood, pulling Buck with him. They crossed to the front door and Buck hesitated. He was focused and stable here in his apartment, but the world outside was so much bigger, louder, definitely smellier. Buck didn't know if he could do this.

Then Eddie held out a hand, offered him an understanding smile. "I'll be right beside you," he said. "It'll be okay."

If there was one person Buck trusted with everything, it was Eddie. He had to. Out on a call, he couldn't afford to doubt his partner. Buck had always trusted Eddie implicitly, no matter the situation. So, with a deep breath, Buck reached out to take Eddie's hand—to trust him one more time.

Eddie nodded, face serious, heartbeat steady. Then he opened the door and they stepped into the world.

…

…

By the time they arrived at Abuela's house, Buck was clutching the grab handle in the truck so hard it had reformed to the shape of his palm. Eddie put the car in park but made no move to get out. Instead he reached over and placed a hand on Buck's shoulder, making him flinch.

"Buck. Focus. Breathe."

Someone had mowed their lawn that day. The smell was nauseating. Buck put his arm under his nose and breathed in the smell of his own skin, his own nervous sweat. It wasn't pleasant, but it was _him_. It was familiar. And he followed Eddie's prompts and breathed.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

Lowering his arm, Buck inhaled again. The smell wasn't so bad. There was a stack of rubber tires somewhere, but the scent was muted. He glanced through the truck windows until he found the cute flower planters someone had made by painting old tires bright colors. God his nose was weird. Why the tires and not the flowers inside them?

"Buck?"

"Huh?" His eyes flicked back to Eddie. "I'm good, I'm good. I—It's…a lot."

Eddie gave him another understanding smile. "Yeah. You wanna go inside?"

With a nod, Buck stepped out of the truck. They hadn't even reached the door before Buck stumbled back. There was a smell—This place wasn't his. It belonged to someone else. This was _wrong_. He had to get away. He had to leave. He had to—

Eddie's hand on his arm snapped him out of it. "Buck," he said, harsh but not angry. Buck shrank back but Eddie held him in place. "It's just Abuela and Chris. Okay? That's what you're smelling. It's fine."

A woman's voice called from inside. "¿Quién está contigo, Edmundo?"

"Es Buck, Abuela. You know him," Eddie called back. His hand moved from Buck's arm, up his shoulder, and down to the small of his back. "Come on," he urged, gently pushing Buck forward with one hand while he opened the door with the other.

Isabel Diaz stood from her couch as soon as they were in the living room with her. Her eyes trailed over Buck from head to toe, an examination, before turning, wide, to her grandson. "Eddie," she breathed out. "Did you—?"

"No," Eddie answered with a single shake of his head. He nodded to where Chris was sitting at the coffee table with his Legos but didn't speak. Isabel understood anyway, her hands flying to her mouth as she looked back at Buck.

Every nerve in Buck's body was telling him to back out, to leave. It had to be something with Isabel's scent. She had marked this house as her territory, and even though she was old and weaker than him, he wanted to turn and run. He had no idea what she was really capable of.

Lowering her hands, Isabel asked, quiet, "Your name is Buck, yes?"

Finally, Christopher looked up from his Legos. He beamed when he saw Buck. "Buck!" he cheered. "Why are you here?" Even that question sounded pleased, and Buck couldn't help the little smile that grew on his face.

Christopher was the reason for his changes. The smile faltered. "I—uh—I wanted to—to check up on you. You know, after yesterday." His eyes flicked to Eddie. Was that right? Or was he supposed to tell Christopher about the scratch? About how Buck was, what, a were-something? But Eddie nodded at him, saying he'd answered correctly.

A heartbeat was moving too fast. Buck's head snapped down to Christopher, who wasn't smiling anymore. Before Eddie or Isabel reacted, Buck knelt down beside Christopher and put a hand on his cheek. Even just that point of contact had Christopher's heart rate slowing, the scent coming off him less scared.

"Hey. You okay, bud?" Buck asked.

Christopher nodded, shaky, and then pushed away from the table to reach out for Buck. Even though this eight-year-old was the reason Buck wasn't human anymore, Buck didn't hesitate to wrap Christopher up in his arms, as secure as he had on the ladder truck, between waves, when they had thought they were safe.

Over Christopher's head, Abuela wore a fond expression. She clapped her hands together softly. "I bet you are hungry, hm, Buck? Stay for lunch."

At the mention of food, Buck realized he'd never even had breakfast and his stomach rumbled like _it_ was the were-creature and not Buck. In his arms, Christopher chortled.

"Bucky's hungry!" he called out, all signs of his anxiety gone.

Buck grinned. "Yeah I am. I could eat a horse."

Abuela smiled. "Well we'll fix that, won't we?"

And boy did she. Abuela kept cooking for what seemed to be hours. Every time Buck's plate emptied, she appeared at his shoulder to pile more food onto it, and then stared him down until he started eating again. She didn't need to though. As soon as Buck started eating, he couldn't stop. He was ravenous, and cleared four plates easily, with room for more. It was actually a little terrifying. Buck had always had a big appetite and adored carbs, but this was ridiculous.

"The change takes a toll," Eddie said when Buck looked up at him for an answer, and of course he already knew the question without Buck asking. "Your body used up a lot of energy last night and needs to refuel." He shrugged one shoulder. "It won't always be like that."

"I'm not sure about that, nieto," Isabel argued. She waved at Buck's entirety. "He's so big. You eat a lot anyway, don't you? A good, healthy appetite."

She was teasing him like he was her own grandchild and it threw Buck for a loop. His own grandparents had died when he was young, too young to really remember them. Why was Isabel—As if he were family?

Wait, Christopher had turned him. Did that make Buck…pack? Or something? He really needed to ask Eddie to clarify what, exactly, Buck was now. What they all were. There was no way he could organize his thoughts otherwise.

Isabel was just collecting the plates when suddenly Christopher sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose. "Daddy, why does it smell like—"

He looked across the table at Buck and, for three long seconds, no one spoke. No one even moved. Then Christopher's mouth dropped open with a pained gasp.

"No. No no," he muttered, shaking his head back and forth roughly.

All his anxiety was back but Buck was across a table and couldn't hug him. Instead, Eddie slid out of his own chair to kneel beside his son. Christopher gasped for air, like he might be having an asthma attack.

"Did—Did I—Daddy, I saw—I scratched him. I did it. You said never to do it but I did. I'm sorry." And he started to cry in earnest.

Eddie wrapped Christopher in his second tight hug of the day and made calming sounds. "Shh shh, I know, Chris. It'll be alright."

"Is Bucky angry at me?" Christopher asked, his voice muffled in his father's shoulder.

Buck and Eddie locked eyes. There were a lot of emotions rolling through Buck in that moment, but anger wasn't one of them. Maybe it was shock, or maybe some part of him still didn't understand what had happened to him because Eddie hadn't really explained it, but he wasn't mad. At that moment, he just wanted Christopher to stop crying.

"No," Eddie said, voice still soft and sure. "No, Buck's not mad at you, mijo."

A few minutes of hugging later—from both Eddie and Buck—Isabel took Christopher down the hall to the bathroom to wash his face of tears, giving Buck and Eddie a minute alone.

"So what exactly are you? We," Buck corrected.

Eddie lifted an eyebrow and, like it should be obvious, said, "Werewolves."

A nod. "Right. Obviously." Buck laid his arms on the table and leaned forward. His words came out rushed. "Please tell me how this all works, because I think I'm about ten seconds from a full meltdown if you don't start explaining things."

So Eddie did.

The Diaz family had been werewolves for nine generations. No one knew for sure anymore where or how it started, though the popular story was that Eddie's great great, many greats grandfather got turned while hunting a werewolf that was threatening the family way back in the day. It came with some perks, once you got used to them—heightened senses of smell, sight, hearing, and even taste. Abuela's food was really good, right?

"You'd better say yes, because she can hear you even from the bathroom," Eddie whispered with a wink.

Buck huffed out a laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, it was fantastic."

Werewolves also had more strength and stamina than normal humans, which came in handy as a firefighter. Eddie could work longer and harder than anyone else he knew. It also meant that Eddie would heal from most injuries within a few hours.

"Oh my god," Buck interrupted. He threw his hands onto his left leg. "Last night. My leg was on _fire_ , man. There's a metal rod in my leg. Is that gonna be a problem?"

Eddie shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. "Your body probably _tried_ to heal it when the change first took over, but by now your body sort of thinks the rod _is_ you, so it shouldn't cause any problems. It's not going to shove a metal pole out through your leg, if that's what you're worried about."

If Buck was being honest, yes. Yes, that horrific image had come to mind. Good to know it was unfounded.

"Wait," Buck said. "What about Chris?"

Even without a proper question, Eddie knew what he wanted to know. He frowned and explained that the curse, or gift, or whatever, that was lycanthropy would heal most physical injuries, but it didn't have much of an effect of the brain. At least as far as anyone knew. Since CP was, at its core, a neurological issue, it wasn't something that being a werewolf would change.

"But it does mean that, when he falls down, he'll get right back up," Eddie said reassuringly. He even looked a little proud. "Kid heals quick."

Drowning was definitely a way a werewolf could die, though, and Eddie couldn't thank Buck enough for saving his son during the tsunami. Even if he lost track of him for a bit, he still saved Chris. That's how Chris remembered it. Buck, the superhero, pulling him from the water, pulling a dozen people from the water, and keeping them safe. That's why he was so upset about turning Buck. Because Buck was his hero.

Buck didn't know what to do with that. He was going to let Christopher down. He wasn't a hero. Not anymore.

"What do you mean?" Eddie asked, mimicking Buck's position and leaning closer over the table.

"I'm not a firefighter anymore, Eddie," Buck croaked, the loss hitting him afresh. "I—I sit in my apartment and stare out the window all day. They won't let me go back to work unless it's a desk job and I can't—Eddie that's not who I am." He gulped. "I don't even know who I am anymore. Especially not now."

Without trying, Buck heard Isabel coax Christopher outside into the back yard instead of returning to the kitchen. And then it was the sound of a car driving by outside, and the T.V. on next door, and in the house beyond that, and someone playing music on their laptop somewhere else, and a plane flying overhead, and Buck grabbed at his ears, trying to block it all out. A whine slipped out of him, pained and drawn out, but he couldn't stop it. It was too much. Too much!

"Buck. Buck," Eddie called, over and over. "Focus, Buck. Just pick one sound. One. Focus on that one sound, alright? You can do it, Buck. You've done it before."

Eddie's hand was on his arm. When had that happened?

"Once you focus on that one sound, the rest should sort of fade out. Right? You got it? Good job, Buck," Eddie said as the whining stopped and Buck started to breathe properly again. "See? You've got this."

Eddie's voice had always been nice, but now it was more. It was like finally sleeping in his own bed after a twenty-four-hour shift. Or a drink of water on a sweltering day. It was soothing. Comforting. Listening to Eddie made everything else background noise.

When the world quieted down, Buck lowered his head to the table. "I do _not_ 'got this' at all," he grumbled into the wood. It smelled nice. Old. Loved. Isabel must have owned it for a while. And how the heck could he _smell_ 'loved'?

"You've been a werewolf for less than a day," Eddie reminded him, pulling out the chair beside Buck so he could sit next to him instead of across the table.

Buck didn't lift his head, but he also felt calmer, somehow. The smell of Isabel Diaz's house had scared him when they first arrived, but now it was comforting. Buck took deep breaths to get as much of that comfort as he could.

He was a werewolf now. Movies showed werewolves as bloodthirsty killers. Even the best characters, when they were changed, had trouble not attacking people they cared about. God, if being on blood thinners disqualified Buck from being a firefighter, this disqualified him from even a desk job.

Except Eddie was a firefighter. Eddie was by his side every day, running into danger and helping people. How did he do it?

"Here's the plan," Eddie said, breaking the silence. He rapped his fingers on the table once. "I'm gonna talk to Bobby. The department was worried about the blood thinners, right?"

"I'm a liability," Buck intoned dimly, then gave a wry huff. "Don't gotta worry about those anymore, huh?"

Eddie ignored his bitter words. "But you saved like a dozen people during the tsunami, without any gear or back up, while on those blood thinners," he reminded. "So, I'll talk to Bobby. He'll talk to the department. We'll get you reinstated with the one eighteen."

That had Buck sitting up and frowning at his friend. "Eddie, how am I gonna be a firefighter? I—I can't even—We were just sitting here talking and I had a complete meltdown. That can't happen on a call."

Eddie's hand was on his shoulder again. The weight grounded Buck, as did the level gaze Eddie wore. "And it won't. I swear to you, by the time you're back in the station, you'll be ready for anything."

"How can you know that?" Buck asked pessimistically, though hope was already starting to bloom in his chest.

He could be a firefighter again? Even though he'd quit? Even though he was a werewolf now?

There was a spark in Eddie's eyes, and the smirk on his face looked downright evil. "Because Tia Pepa is gonna kick your ass."

…

…

_tbc_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the other firefighters mentioned are actual names Bobby's called people at the station. That's all we know about them.

It took a month for Buck to be reinstated to the one eighteen as a full firefighter. Six days were spent with Eddie talking to Bobby, and getting the rest of the station to gang up on him too, making him see how ready Buck was, how well he'd handled himself in the tsunami, how little the blood thinners effected his performance. The rest of the time was the department filing the paperwork, which of course they took their sweet time on.

During that time, Buck learned that Eddie wasn't kidding in the slightest.

Josephina Diaz was a beast, and it had nothing to do with being a werewolf. She put Buck through his paces both physically and psychologically. There was an entire extreme sports training facility she dragged him to three times a week to get his heart rate pumping, to push his new limits, and then to force him to control those limits, to control his body's reactions. Three other days of the week were devoted to surrounding him with people—which really seemed like a terrible idea in Buck's mind—to make him smell and hear and feel more than he ever had in his life, to learn to control _what_ he smelled, _what_ he heard, and _what_ he felt. When necessary, she dug her nails into Buck's arm hard enough to draw blood, forcing him to focus on that pain instead of losing it in the middle of a crowd.

It was hardest during the three days around the full moon. Isabel, Eddie, and Pepa stayed at Buck's apartment those days, while Karen and Hen kept Christopher for an extended sleepover. While Buck felt like he was crawling out of his skin, couldn't sit still, kept trying to leave, they made him stay. And the first time he shifted, they held him.

At first, they held him to stop him from destroying his furniture, the blind panic surging through him telling him to rip and tear and bite and get out get out _get out_! He left more than a few bad cuts on each of them, but they healed within minutes and the Diaz wolves didn't even flinch. Then they held him gently. Isabel shushed him and sang softly in Spanish, and Eddie spoke quietly in his ear about what Christopher had been up to since Buck last saw him. The mad rush in Buck's mind slowed, along with his heart and his breath, until he was himself again.

Then Pepa made him keep shifting—his body growing and sprouting fur all over, his hands and feet becoming clawed, his facial features lengthening into something more dog than human—and reverting back until he could stay shifted without losing who he was. She had him shift just his nails into claws, just his teeth into fangs, and back. She had him channel his power into his eyes, making them glow bright blue.

"So you don't hunt or attack people," Buck mused, staring at his claws while sitting in the middle of the floor, legs splayed like a child. "What do you use them for then? Opening cans?"

Pepa scoffed, waving at Buck like he was hopeless. "So uncivilized." She lifted her eyebrows at her nephew. "Really, Edmundo?" Eddie just shrugged in response.

In that month, Pepa pulled no punches—sometimes literally. She was downright _mean_ at times. Buck was exhausted and used every day off just to sleep.

But the end result? By the time the department called to let him know he was back in and to report for duty in the morning? Buck wasn't scared anymore. He knew his body again, and his mind.

He was still nervous as hell when he walked into the station first the first time in months. If anyone else noticed, though, they didn't mention it. Nor did anyone mention how Buck wandered around the whole station, touching the trucks, the gear, the couches, everything. They probably thought he just missed it all that much, when in reality he was relearning it.

Buck wanted to know the firehouse in every possible way. The exact play of reds on the truck. The minute evidence of wear and tear on everyone's jackets. The smell of the locker room, the bunk room, the couches, the very air. The sound of chatter that had always been the background noise to Buck's life. He wanted to know it deaf and blind.

He was home, and he wouldn't leave again.

"Someone's marking their territory."

Buck looked up from inspecting his turnout coat to see Eddie standing behind him, arms crossed over his chest, an amused tilt to his lips. "I'm not marking anything," Buck protested, grimacing at the thought. Dogs marked their territory with pee, right? Gross.

Shaking his head, Eddie huffed a laugh then moved closer. "Don't know if you've noticed, Buck, but you've walked the perimeter of the station at least six times, and you're touching _everything_." He leaned on the kit cubbies, so close to Buck that they were almost touching. Still with that amused, teasing smile on his face, he said, "Any other wolves come anywhere near this place? They're gonna know it's claimed."

There had been a little conversation during Buck's month of werewolf boot camp involving other wolves. Clearly the Diaz family weren't the only werewolves in existence. Heck, they weren't the only family in southern California, or in Los Angeles. Wolves weren't common by any stretch, but they were around.

As it had been explained to Buck, running into another werewolf wasn't a bad thing, per say. They were just like other people, had the same problems, lived the same lives. But if Buck broached their territory—usually their house—he'd best be ready for a fight, and a bad one. And during the full moon, other wolves might be out looking to start a fight just because. In general, werewolves had shorter tempers than regular people, but not always. Isabel and Christopher were examples of 'not always,' while Eddie and Pepa were examples of 'in general.'

Speaking of Chris—he was apparently too young to shift during the full moon yet. Buck had worried about it during his first full moon, but Eddie said born wolves didn't start shifting until they hit puberty, so it was fine. That was also why he hadn't smelled the change in Buck immediately, because his senses were still developing. Like Buck, he was still learning control.

Buck shook his head. "Well, it is claimed," he said, putting his coat back on its hook. "By us."

He held his fist up and Eddie immediately brightened, bumping it with his own.

Eddie had said that, though Christopher turned him, Buck didn't _have_ to align himself with the Diaz family. He would have a slight scent that another wolf could use to figure out what family turned him, but it was slight, and didn't mean Buck owed them any sort of allegiance. He'd looked so sad when he explained it, and Buck had known immediately how much Eddie was hoping Buck would stay with them.

And Buck wanted to stay. Not only for the support as he navigated his new life, but because Eddie and Christopher and Pepa and Isabel? They felt like a real family. For Buck, who always felt like he was getting left behind by the people in his life, that sense of family was intoxicating.

Referring to the station as 'theirs' was one way Buck could show Eddie that he wasn't going anywhere. He wasn't leaving their family.

…

…

The first time Buck had an issue on duty after being turned had nothing to do with losing control.

A kid was hurt, her arm stuck in a pipe. She was crying, and Buck wanted to do something about it. Needed to. And it would be so easy to rip the pipe open and free her. He could do it. He almost did, except that Eddie grabbed both of his wrists and held him back.

"Eddie, I can—"

"No you can't," Eddie argued, his voice lowered.

The girl cried out as Hen and Chim's first attempt to free her didn't work and Buck jerked in Eddie's hands. He glared at Eddie, furious at the hands that held him, at the man stopping him from helping a _child_.

Eddie's eyes flared a golden brown and his voice was a low growl. "Not. At. Work." A challenging rumble built in Buck's chest as the girl continued to cry, but Eddie gripped his wrists tighter. " _Buck_."

"There you go, sweetie, you're free," Hen said at almost the same moment.

All the fight ran out of Buck in the blink of an eye. That time, when he moved to go help Hen with the girl, Eddie let him.

An hour later, after work had ended for the day, Eddie drove them to an open field. The ride was tense and silent like they had never been since Eddie's first shift with the station. As soon as the truck stopped, Buck stormed out of the car, slamming the door shut.

"Buck!"

Buck whirled to face him. "Why didn't you let me help her?" he yelled, his jaws snapping on too-sharp teeth. "I could've gotten her out sooner, could've saved her that pain. I could've—"

"You can't just rip open metal pipes with your bare hands, Buck!" Eddie shouted back, coming around the truck to stand opposite him.

"And why not?" Buck demanded, throwing his arms out. He was so mad he knew his eyes were glowing, challenging, defiant. "I'm superhuman now, Eddie! I can save so many people! But you," he jabbed a clawed finger in Eddie's direction, though they were far more than arm's distance apart. "You won't let me."

Eddie glared at him. "You wanna save people? You do it without outing yourself!" he snarled, his own teeth growing sharp for an instant before he reined himself in.

Buck chuckled but it wasn't a happy sound. "I haven't outed myself since the eighth grade."

For a split second, Eddie looked thrown, off balance. Then he shook his head and took a purposeful step closer. Buck took one back.

"Let's say you did it, huh? You ripped that pipe open. You saved the day," Eddie said, his voice patronizing. "What next? Now Bobby, Hen, Chim, that girl, her _family_. They all know. They all saw what you did. And one of them, at _least_ one of them, isn't gonna handle it well."

Buck crossed his arms. "So what? What are they gonna do? _Fight me_?"

"They'll take you away!" Eddie shouted, his voice catching on a fearful tone that had Buck stumbling, all of his wolfish features vanishing. Eddie's hands were fists at his sides, trembling. "Whatever they think gives you that strength doesn't matter! Eventually it ends with you _gone_. Do you get that? Do you want that?"

Buck shook his head, small shakes at first and then bigger ones. "N—No. No I—Where would they take me?"

Eddie shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted, though it sounded like an accusation. "You can ask Abuela, though. She lost her brother when she was sixteen. No one's seen him since. Or even further back, my great-great-grandfather. They just flat out shot him. I'm sure that's better, though, hm? At least no one's sitting around hoping for a miracle, then."

Like at the scene of the call, all the fight was gone, replaced with horror. No one had told Buck any of that before. "Eddie." He took a half step closer and then, when Eddie didn't growl or flash his eyes, another full step. "I didn't know."

Buck's hesitance, or perhaps his heart rate or smell, cut through the tension around Eddie as well. He crossed his arms and looked away, but Buck could tell by his scent that he was embarrassed. By what? Talking about his family's losses?

Buck kept moving closer, slowly, until they were within touching distance. "I'll be more careful," Buck said. "I promise. I'm not—I'm not going anywhere."

With a huge rush of breath, Eddie's shoulders dropped. His eyes, when he looked at Buck, were tired. Buck tilted his head, gave Eddie a tentative and questioning smile. It had the desired effect of making Eddie's lips quirk up too, even though it was obvious he was trying to stay upset.

"Yeah, you better not," Eddie said, the smile leaking into his voice too. He reached out to clasp Buck's arm, and Buck knew they were okay. "Pepa's already grown attached to you."

Buck snorted. "Pepa likes beating me up."

"Well maybe we need to practice so you're not so easy a target," Eddie teased.

Buck glanced around the open field with new suspicion. "Is that why you drove us out to the middle of nowhere? To beat me up?"

Eddie shrugged, his hand dropping from Buck's arm to slide into the pocket of his jeans. "Honestly? I thought you were gonna punch me after that call. Figured out here at least we could really let loose if we needed to."

A bemused smile took up residence on Buck's face. "Oh, you wanna prove you're the alpha?"

"I never said that."

No, but his scent was pretty damn pleased at the idea. It was a scent with a musky hint but also a bit of warmth and sweetness, like cinnamon. Buck liked that scent on Eddie. He stepped up into Eddie's personal space and puffed his chest, but clearly Eddie could tell there was nothing aggressive in him because he didn't tense up.

Then, in a sudden switch, Buck bared his neck and gave a shit-eating grin. "Wanna make me submit?"

Eddie shoved him just hard enough to make Buck stumble out of his personal space. "Brat."

He was blushing though, and Buck started to laugh, which made Eddie smile too. The tension from before was gone, replaced by the ease and familiarity that Buck had always felt with Eddie. He inhaled, already knowing what he would smell—all the right chemosignals that meant Eddie was pleased. Eddie shook his head at Buck's antics and Buck smiled fondly in return.

…

…

Fires in apartment buildings sucked. That many homes, that close together, meant there were dozens of possible casualties just waiting to happen. This particular apartment was almost entirely ablaze by the time the one eighteen arrived.

Another truck was on the way and no one outside was visibly injured, so Bobby sent most of the team inside to check for survivors until another station could arrive as backup. They worked alternating floors. Buck, Eddie, and Lewis took the evens, Hen, Chim, and Sam took odds, Tanika, Martin, John, and the rest manned the ladder truck and the hoses.

There was one man on the second floor who had not evacuated yet. Buck followed the sounds of coughing, just audible over the flames, and found him cowering in his bathroom. "Can you stand? Are you hurt?" he asked, though he didn't smell blood.

The guy shook his head. "I thought it was just some stupid kids pulling the alarm!" he shouted, or tried to.

Eddie shook his head. "Definitely not." He held out his hand. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."

Lewis headed back down the stairs with the man while Eddie and Buck continued up to the fourth floor. As they passed the third floor, Buck caught the sound of crying from one of the apartments. Third door, right side. Without pausing, he said into the radio, "Hey, I heard something on level three. Sounded like it came from one of the apartments on the right."

"Copy that. Already on the way, Butch," Chim hailed back.

The fourth floor was worse than the second. The fire had eaten through the floor above, causing the ceiling to collapse on this one, which meant Buck and Eddie had to climb around burning beams and pipes and floorboards as they went. It was quick work, though, because though they still called out "LAFD!" every dozen feet, they could hear when a room was occupied or not without having to stop and check each one.

"Help! I'm stuck!"

The woman's voice came from the last apartment on the left. The door of her apartment was shut, though part of it near the top had a hole through it, meaning she could hear them easier. There was flaming debris from the ceiling collapse on both sides of the door, trapping her inside.

After sharing a glance and a nod, Buck and Eddie got to work on the debris. They moved what they could, ripping apart stuff that was stuck in a way where usually moving it wouldn't be possible. Buck hefted a heavy beam out of the way with ease, glad that the woman couldn't see them so that they could use all the skills they had to save her.

Once the debris was clear—their gloves a little worse for wear but otherwise unharmed—Eddie told the lady to get far away from the door and rammed his shoulder into it. Whatever was on the other side buckled. Another ram and the door and debris broke, collapsing to the floor. Funnily enough, the lady ran right passed Eddie to clutch onto Buck, as if he were the one to get her out instead.

Eddie lifted an eyebrow. Buck gave him a cheeky smile and a wink in return. Then they helped the woman escape the burning building and handed her off to one of the paramedics from the other station that had arrived.

"Great work," Bobby said with a proud expression. "Take a breather. Get some water. The one twenty-three just sent their own guys in to check the upper floors."

Though neither Eddie nor Buck were tired, or even feeling that parched, they followed orders. Tanika tossed them each a water bottle and they stood by the ladder truck drinking, ready to jump back into action in a second if needed.

After a full minute of watching the flames, Buck said, "Bet I could've knocked the door down in one hit."

"Bet I could knock _you_ down in one hit," Eddie shot back immediately.

Buck laughed, full body, at the quick retort. He bounced on the balls of his feet, full of bubbling energy. He set his half-finished water on the truck and turned to Eddie.

"Come on. Let's go get Bobby to let us do something." If he wouldn't let them go back in, they could at least help man a hose or monitor the evacuees or _something_. "I got too much energy left to just sit here when I could be helping, and I know you do too."

Eddie set his bottle next to Buck's and followed him across the parking lot to their captain.

…

…

Cases where being a werewolf came in handy: Sniffing out the missing fingers of a man run over by an ice skate. Recognizing that that really intense Halloween decoration is _real_ because of the blood and hearing the victim moan from across the parking lot. Knowing the cause of a fire from the smell of the chemicals alone. Hearing where people are stuck in burning buildings even when they can't raise their voice to call out.

Knowing his sister isn't okay because her scent is all over the place. Fear. Anxiety. Anger. Disgust. Sorrow.

"Makes me wish I still lived with her," Buck said over beer one night, Christopher in the living room watching TV. "I mean, maybe if I did, I would've noticed something was wrong sooner. I could've helped her."

Instead he only learned something was wrong when Chim called to tell him Maddie needed a ride from the hospital, but don't worry she wasn't the one hurt, and Chim was still on shift. That was when Buck learned that Maddie had been put on probation at work pending therapy. And he only learned it was for stalking a woman in an abusive relationship when he asked Maddie about it during the drive to her apartment. After that same woman called Maddie for help saving her abuser's life.

"How?" Eddie asked. He shook his head. "She probably wouldn't have told you what was wrong."

No. She probably would have assured him everything was fine, and he couldn't just come out and say, 'Your scent says otherwise.' At best, she'd have thought he was saying she needed a shower. At worst, that he was crazy.

Running his hands over his head with a sigh, Buck groaned. "This would all be so much easier if Maddie knew."

It wasn't like Eddie—or Isabel or Pepa—had forbidden him from telling Maddie about his changes, but Buck could tell it made them nervous to think about.

Buck had been forcibly changed. No one had asked him first, explained lycanthropy to him, warned him of the risks. In fact, it was only last month that Buck learned that apparently the shift from human to werewolf could have killed him! A lot of people would have a problem with that, with Buck being changed against his will. He had overheard Pepa talking to Isabel that it was amazing that _Buck_ was taking it so well.

And Buck knew that Maddie wouldn't take it well. Her history—both with Doug and as a nurse—would balk at the news that her baby brother had been unwillingly turned into a werewolf. She would try to find a cure for him, but worse, she would try to distance him from Eddie and his family.

His pack—no matter how much Eddie insisted that wasn't what they called themselves, it made sense in Buck's head. He wasn't a Diaz, but he was still _theirs_. And Buck wanted to stay theirs as long as possible.

"Did Shannon know?" Buck asked, dropping his arms to the table.

Eddie tensed immediately. "Yeah. She knew." His tone was clipped.

Like he was walking around landmines, Buck asked, "Was she…"

Already Eddie was shaking his head. "No. No, she was human."

The car crash probably wouldn't have killed her if she wasn't. For a moment, Buck considered asking why she hadn't become a wolf alongside him. Then the moment passed. Silence reigned.

"Knowing—," Eddie let out a big sigh, set his beer down, and met Buck's eyes. "It doesn't always make things easier."

Now Buck wanted to know _when_ Shannon learned about it, because that sounded like a loaded statement if Buck had ever heard one. But he didn't ask, because Eddie didn't want to answer.

Instead, Buck said, "Made it easier for us."

Again Eddie shook his head. "That's different. You had to know. You were suddenly one of us."

Buck leaned toward Eddie, though the table kept him out of Eddie's personal space. "I think it would've made it easier anyway. If you'd told me."

Eddie lifted an eyebrow. "You think you would've believed me?"

A shrug. "Probably not." The easy negative made Eddie laugh, and Buck smiled. "You would've had to prove it to me, but I think it would've turned out alright."

"Yeah?" Eddie's tone and expression were hopeful.

Buck nodded, still smiling. "Yeah."

…

…

_tbc_


	3. Chapter 3

One thing that Buck used his newfound abilities for was helping his coworkers. Not with lifting things or finding stuff, either. After a call, Buck's super sniffer could pick up on if one of his teammates wasn't handling it well. If they'd lost someone on a call, or even if the call just brought up bad memories, his fellow firefighters started to smell sad, anxious, or scared. Then Buck took it upon himself to bring them a hot beverage, or go chat about their favorite books—at least ask about them, since he probably hadn't read the book himself, or challenge them to a game, or something. He wasn't a therapist or anything, didn't talk to them about their Feelings, but the little gestures helped. The person was always calmer when he left than they were before, and that's all he could hope for.

"You're kind of amazing," Eddie told him one day as they changed back into their civilian clothes. With a depreciative shake of his head, he said, "All these years and I've never considered using what I could do like that, and you—You don't even think about it. You just do it."

Buck frowned at him from where he was pulling on his shoes, confused. "I'm not exactly saving the world with a cup of coffee, Eddie."

"Maybe not the whole world," Eddie agreed, sitting on the bench beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched. He nodded through the glass walls of the locker room to where their coworkers were wandering about doing various jobs. "But it means a lot in theirs."

The only problem was that no one was paying attention to _Buck's_ emotional state after calls. No one could scent the air and tell he wasn't alright. Except Eddie, but Eddie wasn't on shift that day. There was a school event that night, an art gallery or something.

It was the full moon, but that shouldn't have mattered. Buck had worked three other full moons just fine. He should have been fine.

Except he wasn't.

All he knew was that one minute he was standing under the water in the station showers, watching red pool down the drain, and the next he was lying in a clearing in the forest staring up at a sky just barely lightening with the sun.

"Shit."

Sitting up, Buck saw that the grass around him was marred with half a dozen dirt tracks, like people had gone over the spots so many times they had killed the grass and made natural paths. The trees bore slashes in their trunks, a few even cut clean in half and lying on the forest floor. Buck's clothes had seen better days, the fabric torn at the seams and barely hanging on, proving that he had definitely fully shifted the night before. Every werewolf horror movie Buck had ever seen flashed through his mind and he looked around, sniffed deeper than he ever had. No blood. No decomposing bodies. No fear. But that didn't mean he hadn't hurt anybody.

In his pocket, his cellphone began to ring, snapping him out of his panic.

Eddie.

"Eddie," Buck gasped into the phone.

" _Where are you?"_ Eddie asked. His voice was rough, like he was angry, but also scared. Like a parent who'd lost their kid in the store for too long. Buck wished he could smell him.

Looking around, Buck frowned. "I don't—Some woods? I don't know." He tried to take a breath to steady himself but it came out shaky. "I don't remember leaving work, Eddie." His hands began to shake and he couldn't take a deep enough breath to still them.

After a long, tense silence, Eddie said, _"Okay. Here's what you're gonna do. Find your own scent trail. Follow it until you figure out where you are, then I'll come get you."_

While Buck did as told, Eddie talked. Bobby had called around eight the previous night, asking if Buck was with him. They had a bad call, multiple fatalities. He knew Buck wasn't doing well afterward, but before Bobby could talk to him about it, Lewis told him Buck had just left. Mid-shift. Got into his car like a zombie and drove away. Given how much time Buck and Eddie spent together, how close they were, Bobby had hoped Buck had gone to Eddie.

Instead of going home after the school event, Eddie had dropped Christopher with Abuela. The rest of the night was made up of Eddie—and Pepa, and a few cousins—driving around L.A. looking for Buck's jeep and repeatedly calling his phone. And fielding calls from Maddie, who had been informed of her brother's disappearing act by Chim and _also_ thought he would be with Eddie.

Maddie hadn't said there were any reports of strange animal attacks or unusual murders at the Dispatch, so it didn't sound like Buck had hurt anyone. And, as Buck found his jeep parked beside the sign for a hiking trail, he hadn't smelled anything to suggest it either.

" _You were probably just overwhelmed, needed an outlet, and ran it off,"_ Eddie said. It sounded like he was just trying to reassure Buck, like a theory he came up with in that moment, but Buck clung to it like a lifeline. _"You're not the kind of person to attack someone because you're upset. You aren't that kind of wolf either."_

"I killed the grass," Buck said with a thick laugh. "I woke up surrounded by dead grass. From running too much. The trees too. I attacked some trees."

Buck sat beside his jeep, the adrenaline slowly draining from him at the sound of Eddie's voice, the shaking dying away, until Eddie's truck pulled up. Eddie's worry was palpable as soon as the door opened, and it only got worse when he caught sight of Buck on the ground in his ruined clothes, covered in dirt.

"I'm okay," Buck said into the phone still pressed to his ear.

Eddie shoved his own phone in his pocket and dropped to kneel beside Buck. One hand came up to rest on the side of Buck's neck, the other took Buck's hand. Already Buck felt better, like everything would be alright. Eddie took a deep breath, ascertained that Buck wasn't injured. A bit of the tension bled out of his shoulders.

"Come on," he said, quiet, giving Buck's shoulder and hand a squeeze. "Let's go home."

…

…

Apparently the best cure for an overwhelmed werewolf was family time. That was why it was rare to find a werewolf living on their own, removed from their family. Family kept you grounded, reminded you who you were. Even Abuela, Pepa, and Eddie weren't alone. There were other Diaz cousins throughout Los Angeles to help them if they needed it. What this meant for Buck was that Christopher got the day off from school after Buck's meltdown so that they could cuddle.

It had taken awhile for Christopher to stop getting sad when he saw Buck, after that first morning. The kid felt so guilty about what he'd done, and was sure that it was only a matter of time before Buck got mad at him for it and left. Buck didn't know what Eddie said to him, but one day they came over to Buck's apartment, and Chris gave him the biggest hug, and suddenly everything was okay again.

Which mean that now, it was totally cool for Buck to just curl up on the couch, Christopher in his lap, Buck's arms wrapped around his waist and his chin on Christopher's head, just watching cartoons. Christopher's smell was as comforting as Eddie's. It was sweet, almost like caramel. The scent of the house itself was comforting as well. It was a blend of Eddie and Chris and Buck. It smelled like home.

"Hey, Buck?" Christopher asked after two full hours of just sitting wrapped up in Buck's arms.

"Hm?"

Christopher turned his head to look up into Buck's eyes. "Can we play?"

"You sure?" Buck asked. They'd only 'played' a few times, but Eddie said it was good for Chris's muscle control and if he wanted it, go ahead. But it still required special care and so Buck always double checked that Christopher was really up for it before they started.

As soon as Christopher nodded, Buck's comforting arms around him turned into diabolical weapons. His fingers started tickling Christopher's sides, his armpits, his stomach, making Christopher squeal in delight and squirm in place.

With one foot, Buck pushed the coffee table away so that it sat right up against the TV stand, leaving most of the living room open for playtime. Then he wrapped an arm around Christopher's waist, supported his head, and did a barrel roll onto the carpet that had Chris yelling excitedly.

Christopher started struggling, kicking about with his legs and arms, and Buck released him. He rolled off Buck's chest but didn't go far, only pushed himself up to 'attack' again.

"Oh my god!" Buck wailed playfully as Chris whacked him. "You've gotten stronger!"

Christopher giggled. Buck nudged him with an elbow, making Christopher topple sideways, and then leaned over the kid to start tickling him again. Again Christopher's limbs flailed, trying to stop the tickle assault. One of his hands socked Buck in the jaw. It was more surprising than painful, but he still let out an 'omph!'

"You're taking lessons from your daddy's tia, huh?" Buck grumbled lightly, pausing his tickles long enough to lean down and bump his nose into Christopher's.

Christopher grabbed Buck by the cheeks and pulled really hard, so Buck collapsed on top of him—carefully.

"Bucky!" Christopher shrieked. "Get up! You're heavy!"

"No. I'm dead. You have to lift me yourself," Buck spoke into the wood beside Christopher's head.

Even as Christopher bemoaned, "Noooo," he started pushing at Buck's shoulders with his hands, tried getting his legs to cooperate, to push at Buck's torso with his knees. His little fingers grew claws that he used to grip at Buck's shirt and he gave the most adorable growls, trying to move the mountain of muscle that was Buck.

As a reward for his effort, Buck hefted himself up and to the side, as if Chris had managed to throw him off. Christopher rolled over, panting a bit but looking and smelling pleased.

Buck peeked open one eye. "Okay. I'm impressed."

Christopher beamed and it was brighter than the sun. Buck's chest, his whole _body_ , warmed at the sight.

"I'm so impressed that, you know what?" Buck asked.

"What?" Christopher asked.

Instead of answering, Buck growled and wrapped his arms around Christopher, rolling them over until his back hit the couch. With Christopher just that bit disoriented, Buck jumped up and flung his arms up, so that Christopher was hanging high up in the air, almost to the ceiling. Christopher gasped, a delighted sound.

"Superman!" Buck crowed, and Christopher held one arm out in front of him, like Superman's flying pose.

Then Buck let himself fall backward onto the couch, using his own body to cushion Christopher's fall. Christopher pushed himself up on his elbows on Buck's chest so they could look at each other. His eyes flared silver-gray and Buck responded by making his own eyes flare bright blue. Smiling, flushed and pleased, Christopher burrowed into Buck's chest.

"I love you, Buck."

Again that warmth spread through every part of Buck, lighting him up from the inside. He wrapped his arms around Christopher and leaned his head forward to briefly nuzzle his curls. "I love you too, buddy."

'Play' had only lasted about five minutes, but Christopher was happy, and Buck was happy, and that's what mattered. Another person was really happy, if the smell was any indication. Buck twisted to look over the side of the couch to see Eddie standing in the archway between living room and dining room, shoulder against the wall, arms over his chest, hip cocked. The sparkle in his eyes, the tilt of his lips, the looseness of his shoulders—He was fond to his bones, and Buck's return smile matched it.

It wasn't until after Eddie put Christopher to bed that night, when Buck was debating asking if he could stay the night, that Eddie did something with that feeling. He returned to Buck setting the living room to rights, waited until Buck was done, and then took a deep breath.

"You know how you keep saying we're family? A _pack_?" Eddie said with a brief sardonic grin. "And how you're never gonna leave?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

Eddie hadn't complained about it before. Actually, Buck knew for a fact that every time he said something like that, Eddie's scent was happy. Beyond happy. He liked hearing those things as much as Buck liked saying them.

Stepping into Buck's personal space, Eddie said, "I want you to move in."

It felt like there were sparks all over Buck's skin, both from Eddie's proximity and the words. The invitation. The _implication_. And sure, they'd gotten closer since the tsunami, since Buck became de facto family, but—

"Eddie." It came out more choked than Buck had intended, his words weighed down by a desperate hope building in Buck's chest.

A nod and Eddie stepped closer still, their chests nearly touching. "I want you here. With me. With _us_. All the time, Buck. For the rest of our lives."

It sounded like a confession, and both of their hearts were going crazy. Buck tiled his head forward, hesitated. Before he could doubt Eddie's meaning for another second, Eddie also leaned forward, closing the distance and pressing their lips together. One of Buck's hands came up to cup Eddie's cheek while the other went to his hip as they continued to trade kisses, and that musky yet sweet smell invaded all his senses.

Buck groaned. "I love the way you smell," and it came out like a growl. Eddie's eyes flared golden brown, and even though it wasn't a dominance thing, it made Buck feel weak. "I love you. I wanna stay."

Their lips met again, again, and one of Buck's hands had found its way under Eddie's shirt to touch bare skin when Eddie pulled back. But only just enough to speak.

"Forever?"

"Forever," Buck agreed on a sigh.

And then Eddie walked him down the hallway, still attached at the lips, to the master bedroom.

…

…

Since both Eddie and Buck had worked on Christmas Day, there hadn't been a Diaz family get together. Or, there wasn't meant to be one, except that Buck set one up in the firehouse for everyone, so they could all enjoy Christmas with their families. But that was just Abuela and Christopher that came. And if Eddie hadn't loved him before, he definitely did after that. Abuela teased him about how far gone he was over Buck, and also for the station being so smelly.

"Your boy has set his territory indeed," she laughed. "I almost couldn't get out of the car!"

The fact that Eddie could walk into that without pausing, and that Buck had never once bristled at him being there, meant that Buck was just as gone over Eddie as Eddie was for him. Abuela made sure they knew she approved whole heartedly by teasing the crap out of them.

The week between Christmas and New Year's saw some of Eddie's El Paso family—his mother, father, and sister Adriana—flying in for a visit. Sophia was busy caring for her new baby girl, who she felt was too young for the trip. They stayed at Abuela's. She was the eldest among them, so it was a respect thing, and she also had the extra room specifically for get togethers like this.

Buck totally understood the 'couldn't get out of the car' thing. When they arrived at Abuela's for the family gathering, Eddie opened his door and moved to get Christopher from the back seat, and Buck's muscles froze up. Three wolves he didn't know were nearby.

That wasn't the issue, not really. Just last week, the one eighteen had been called to help a lady who was choking. She'd been a werewolf. Once they got the obstruction out of her throat, she tried to assert herself. Buck had given her his most open smile and she'd calmed down, even apologized for being so caustic. And the month before that, Buck had been at the mall and caught the scent of another wolf in the crowd. They'd met eyes, nodded in acknowledgement of each other, and moved on. There was no territorial dispute or high running temper involved, no need to fight.

These were three wolves who smelled like Eddie, like Abuela, like Pepa. These were three wolves on family territory. These were three wolves whose opinions _mattered_. Buck had only met Eddie's parents once, in passing, at Shannon's funeral. What if they didn't like him?

A hand on his arm woke him up. Eddie didn't ask if he was alright with his mouth, but with his eyes, and Buck nodded. He would be fine. He could do this.

Abuela came out to greet them at the door with a bright smile and big hugs. "Thank you so much for Christmas," she said when she pulled away from Buck.

With a flush, he said, "Nah, it was nothing."

She shook her head at him with a fond smile. "It was not nothing, tesoro." Then she led them inside, helping Christopher over the lip of the door, Eddie with his hand on the small of Buck's back like the first time.

Ramon Diaz had a tight grip, and Buck matched it as best he could when they shook hands. He wasn't sure if that was the right move, if he had been meant to let the older werewolf have the stronger handshake, or if matching it showed confidence like with normal humans. But it happened so quick that he didn't have time to question it until it was over.

"It's nice to meet you again, Evan," Helena greeted. Her handshake was also firm, but not nearly as tight as Ramon's had been. Her teeth were a lot sharper though.

"Mom," Eddie hissed.

She blinked at him innocently, then tapped her forehead. "Right right. _Buck_. Is that right?"

Eddie heaved a sigh beside him and Buck knew the name wasn't what Eddie had been on about. And they all knew Helena knew it too.

After a long beat of silence, Buck broke it with, "Hey, Chris, you wanna give out the gifts you brought now or later?"

"Now!" Christopher cheered, and Buck put the box with the presents in it on the coffee table so they could be handed out.

The magic of gift giving lessened the tension in the air for a little while, and then Abuela called them all to the table to eat. By then, Buck was used to Abuela giving him one or even two servings more food than anyone else, commenting on his metabolism that was quick even by werewolf standards. Eddie's parents looked taken aback by the action, though, and the teasing, and Buck couldn't figure out if it upset them or not. Conversation at the table was stilted, playing at civil, except when Christopher was involved.

"So you've been a werewolf for how long?" Helena asked eventually.

Buck did a quick mental check. "Uh. A little over six months?"

Ramon chortled into his food dismissively. Pepa and Eddie narrowed their eyes at him. "It's the spice," he insisted, which got Abuela narrowing her eyes at him too. Her scent was a threat and Ramon dipped his head.

"It must've been hard," Helena continued, as if her husband hadn't said anything. She took another scoop of food and plopped it on her plate, but didn't immediately start eating. "How's your family taken it?"

"Helena," Abuela said in a warning tone.

Buck cleared his throat. "I, uh, haven't told them?"

"But they know you're dating Eddie, right?" Helena persisted.

A blush crossed Buck's face, remembering all the teasing. "Yeah. Yeah, no, they know that part." He did his best to grin through the heavy air. "Apparently I'm an oblivious fool who should've made a move ages ago, but, uh, I think we did alright."

Eddie shared a smile with him, agreeing, and Buck's heart fluttered. It was embarrassing to know that everyone at the table, except sometimes Christopher, could hear and smell every dopey or inappropriate reaction Buck had to Eddie, but it wasn't like he could stop himself from feeling.

"It sounds more like your hand was forced," Ramon interjected. "Cause you got a scratch."

Eddie's sister Adriana hadn't said much, just kept watching everyone else like it was a tennis game, but at that she unfolded from her chair at the table and said, "I'm gonna show Christopher something on the computer. Buck, you wanna watch?"

Without waiting for an answer, she helped Christopher down from the chair and physically dragged Buck from the room. Adriana barely got headphones on Christopher and hit play on a video before the sounds of an angry conversation in Spanish erupted in the dining room. Buck jolted and made to get up—even if he didn't understand what they were saying, he could stand in Eddie's court—but Adriana held him down with a surprisingly strong hand on his wrist.

She kept her eyes on the computer, and grinned when Christopher smiled up at her, but Buck could smell how upset she was.

"How well do you even know this man," Adriana eventually said, quietly, like the laziest storyteller. She sounded bored, as if she were reading the world's dullest teleprompter. No inflection. "Chris scratched him. What if it was defensive. You don't know what you're talking about. How dare you. You haven't seen him with Chris, how much they love each other. He's not family. He's as much family as anyone."

She was…translating the fight? It was a hard to tell who was saying what except for the hint of who had just spoken before she translated, but there was a delay between the two, and Adriana wasn't telling him everything everyone said. It was clear she thought the fight was stupid and was only translating parts because Buck was anxious.

"He's only here because he got turned," Adriana drawled. "Oh yeah, like you have any right to say that. Mom didn't even know about us until after the wedding." A whole heap of growling and what sounded like a broken plate and—

"Not my china!" Abuela ordered, and then rapid-fire Spanish.

Adriana chuckled. "She just told them to take it outside if they want to act like wild dogs."

Buck frowned as he listened to them all obediently stomp outside, obeying the one whose territory they were in without hesitation. They were in the middle of a neighborhood. What if someone heard them growling? They'd probably call the police thinking they were holding a dog fight or something. Or what if someone nearby understood Spanish and heard them talking about werewolves?

Adriana gripped his wrist tighter, even pricking him with her claws, to grab his attention. "Chill. Eddie and our parents get into it almost every time they see each other." She sighed. "They've never seen totally eye to eye, but since Shannon gave birth—" She rolled her eyes. "Don't take it personal."

"But shouldn't we stop them?" Buck asked.

Adriana shook her head. "Look, the sooner they hash it out, the sooner they'll get over it." She shrugged. "Eddie chose you. No matter how you came to know about us, or _be_ one of us, you're here now. And you seem like a great guy. You're good with Chris, with Edmundo. They'll just have to get used to it." Then she turned a smile, sharp teeth and all, on him. "You're family now."

Well, Buck had earned the approval of one out of three, at least. He could only hope the rest of the pack didn't decide to kick him out.

Adriana's head tilted, listening, and a sparkle lit her eyes. She laughed. "Oh that's sweet." At Buck's raised eyebrow, she said, "Aunt Josephina just called you her 'little bug.'" She put on a voice, imitating Pepa. "You leave _mi bichito_ alone. That man is a fighter and better than any of your horrible human friends growing up, Ramon." She laughed again. "Gosh I wish she still lived in El Paso."

Together they watched a few fun, loud videos on youtube with Christopher, with Adriana keeping Buck appraised on anything important being said in the backyard. No actual fight broke out, but things were thrown or hit in lieu of hitting each other. And it definitely sounded like the start of an illegal dog fight with all the growling and snarling. Helena peppered in English here and there, and it caught Buck's ear every time because he actually understood it.

Buck wasn't Shannon. He wasn't leaving. He was a good firefighter and a good man. He had Eddie's back, had Christopher's back, more than Ramon and Helena did, who wanted to smother Christopher because of his C.P. Eddie was an adult capable of making decisions about his own kid, his own love life, and he'd made good ones. Ones that Pepa and Abuela, who had seniority in the family, supported. Decisions that Buck had helped him with, that enriched Christopher's life. What did Buck know about Christopher and his needs? He knew everything, was around enough to understand Christopher, to be there for him. He was Eddie's partner—at work and at home—and that wasn't going to change.

Eventually, the arguing died down. Adriana said their parents were out of arguments and outnumbered, so they were about to cave. Shortly thereafter, Eddie walked back inside. He was rubbing his hands down his face when he walked into the guest room where Adriana had pulled Chris and Buck, but he swallowed down his irritation and smiled as soon as he saw them.

"I'm sorry."

Buck shook his head. "Adriana's been giving me the play-by-play," he said, jerking a thumb at her. He smirked. "You've really gone to bat for me."

The look Eddie shot him was fond exasperation. "Of course I did." Christopher looked up from the video and smiled, pulling the headphones off. "Hey, buddy. I think it's time to end the fun for the day."

Christopher's smile dropped. "So soon?"

Eddie gave an apologetic smile. "Yeah, but we'll see them all again tomorrow, okay? Gotta show your Aunt Adriana all around L.A., right?"

"Yeah," Christopher agreed, his smile returning. He looked up at Adriana. "It's gonna be so fun."

She ruffled his hair. "I bet it is. I'll see you tomorrow, big man."

They said their good-byes and then made their way into the living room. Abuela gave each of them a hug, and Pepa gave Buck an especially strong hug that would've broken a normal person's bones and whispered, "You're in my prayers, bichito."

While Eddie was getting Christopher into the truck, Helena stepped outside.

"Buck?" she started. Eddie bristled but Buck stepped closer to her anyway. "I'm sorry things got so heated today. I hope tomorrow is better."

She was inviting him to come along with the family tomorrow. Even if she didn't sound thrilled about it, it was an opening. It was a step toward being accepted by the El Paso part of Eddie's pack. Buck smiled.

"Me too. I'll see you tomorrow, Mrs. Diaz."

…

…

That night, lying in bed together, Eddie leaned their foreheads together. His eyes were closed but Buck knew he wasn't asleep.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Eddie."

Eddie frowned. "It's not." He huffed, aggravated, but not at Buck. "I'm sorry that you got your life upended when Chris scratched you, that you've had to adjust to this and didn't get a say in it." Before Buck could reassure him that it was fine, really, he liked his life now, Eddie continued. "But I'm not sorry that you're here, now. That this is where we ended up."

"I _am_ known for being pretty great in bed," Buck agreed with a grin.

"Buck," Eddie admonished, opening his eyes.

Buck chuckled and found Eddie's hands between them. "Look, nothing's gonna scare me off, okay? I think if I was any more in this, we'd become one person." He huffed a laugh at the weirded out expression on Eddie's face. "Now, you still smell like anxiety, so here are your options. That chamo-whatever tea you swear by in the kitchen, or _I_ can take your mind off it for a while." And he leaned forward to press a lingering kiss to Eddie's lips.

So he was stacking the odds in favor of sex. No one said Buck was fair. Besides which, the day had been stressful and Buck was horny. Sue him. The musk and cinnamon smell began to permeate the air, but Eddie didn't move.

"Mm, I don't know," Eddie hedged.

"One of these days, soon, Christopher's senses are gonna kick in full time and he's gonna know every time you get horny because my shirt pulls to the side to reveal a collarbone or I pick up the dishes, and he'll hear us every time we have even the quietest sex," Buck reminded him. "Shouldn't we make the most of our time before then?"

Eddie rolled to hover over Buck and looked him straight in the eyes. "No more mentioning my son in bed. Deal?"

Buck rolled his hips high enough that Eddie toppled forward onto Buck's chest, then laughed at Eddie's pout. "Deal. Now stop thinking and kiss me."

And he did.

…

…

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my writing style, check out my other fics and look me up on goodreads ([Jessica M. Dawn](https://www.goodreads.com/jessicamdawn)) for more.


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